


Lies

by Akoya8



Series: Birthday One-Word Prompts [26]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Kinda Sorta Infidelity But Only In The Strictest Sense, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akoya8/pseuds/Akoya8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa has been having an affair with Tywin Lannister, but the time has come for it to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire. It belongs to GRRM.
> 
> Author’s Note: Number 26 in my one-word prompt series. AU Tywin/Sansa. No warnings on this one (aside from a bit of salty language), but be prepared for a plot of Regency proportions! I do apologize; I had no idea this was going to happen.

Sansa liked to watch him sleep.

Most people looked unguarded as they slept, younger, or more innocent, not so with Tywin Lannister. He slept as if he were waiting to wake up. Most people did not treat sleep like a necessary burden, but Tywin Lannister begrudged every minute he lost to the seemingly useless enterprise.

Sansa was the opposite. She luxuriated in her sleep, dreading the moment that she would be forced from the warm confines of her bed. Her only exceptions were the nights she spent with Tywin. On those nights, she would stay awake for as long as possible, committing him to memory.

He was a tall man, a full head taller than she was, and lying down only added to his height. He had fine, long fingers that felt amazing against her skin and in her cunt. His features were strong and angular with too many long bones for true beauty, but he took her breath away all the same. Tywin’s eyes were dangerous, precious stones studded with gold, and capable of cutting a man down at ten paces (she’d witnessed the efficacy of his glare).

And yet, when he turned his eyes on her, she felt her body go up in flames, she felt caressed, held, and more importantly, safe.

So, on the nights they met, fucked, and fell, gasping, into the sheets, Sansa would look at him as he slept, thinking that a more perfect being had never before existed. It was a silly, fatuous thought (no doubt brought on by the afterglow of multiple orgasms at Tywin’s hands, mouth, and cock), but it sustained her. Sansa would carry the memory of his perfection with her for the rest of her life. When she married another man and bore his children, Tywin would provide solace and comfort.

She hadn’t told him, couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud, but it was their final night together. Sansa embarked on an affair with the famed and feared Tywin Lannister knowing that it had an expiration date (of which he was completely unaware).

Through a series of mistakes, her family had found itself owing a great debt to the Freys, and in their desperation, the Starks had bargained away the future of their eldest son. But, Robb had always been a little wild, and he’d bucked against the restraints, lashing out and marrying the first woman to take his fancy.

Before they could ask, Sansa offered herself as an alternative. Her parents, all too relieved, had accepted. What had followed was a number of clandestine meetings and arrangements, contracts and signatures. Both families kept quiet, the Starks out of humiliation, and the Freys out of the desire to make a spectacle of their victory. Meanwhile, Sansa worked on reconciling herself to her fate, determined to bear the weight of her family’s honor.

Her affair with Tywin was unplanned, unexpected, and slightly terrifying in its intensity. He’d taken her by the wrist one day at the office, led her to an empty office, and fucked her slowly over the desk. What Sansa had assumed to be a one-time thing turned into several months of late-night dinners and long lovemaking sessions that left her spent, shaking, and happier than shed allowed herself to be for a long time.

Tywin took the time to learn her, to pore over her body and pick at her mind, until she opened for him, laying herself bare.

Still, despite the connection she felt to Tywin, she hid the truth of her engagement, preferring the illusion of a future that included him. But, as she sat in the dark and watched the moonlight ghosting over him, she knew that it was time to leave him.

And, coward that she was, she could not bring herself to wake him and give him the truth he deserved. Instead, Sansa stole away, resolving never to see him again. She told herself that the sting would fade in time, that she didn’t even love him, but lies always tasted better when she fed them to herself.

* * *

 

A month later, Sansa was holding to her resolution.

The day after she left Tywin she had tendered her resignation at Casterly, changed her mobile-phone number, and effectively disappeared. She knew that he had the resources to find her, but she was confident that Tywin wouldn’t be willing to waste the effort on someone he believed unworthy. And, after the way she left, scorching the earth behind her, she was the epitome of unworthy.

Still, a part of her had hoped that he would play the part of the gallant Ser and ride to her rescue, but as she looked around at the faces gathered to celebrate, unknowingly, her engagement to one of the many Walder Freys, she knew that it had always been a dim hope.

“Sansa, dear, you worked for Casterly, didn’t you? Any run-ins with the old lion?”

Her fiancé was making a stab at cleverness, one of his many failings, and Sansa was not of the mind to continue humoring him (no matter what her parents said). “Yes, I did. I was asked to sit in on several meetings. Mr. Lannister required some information from me, and I was more than happy to oblige.”

More lies told through clenched teeth and smiling lips. ‘Mr. Lannister’ tasted foreign on her tongue after he had instructed her, breathlessly, to call him Tywin. Her fiancé remained oblivious to her annoyance and continued on, blithely announcing to all and sundry that his little Stark princess had made a ‘cat’s paw’ of Tywin Lannister. The crowd tittered nervously; it was unwise to mock any Lannister, even if they weren’t present. But, the old lion’s absence added backbone to the braying ass that would soon claim the right to sleep in her bed.

Sansa felt alone, adrift in a sea of full of strangers. Her family was becoming alien to her. They distanced themselves from her, perceiving her resentment at having to make this necessary sacrifice on their behalf. Despite how she felt about her position and her family’s part in it, she would have liked a kind face at her side or a hand on her arm to steady her.

Instead, she suffered the pawing of a buffoon and his would-be cronies and hangers-on. The Freys, though reviled in almost every part of civilized society, were obscenely wealthy. They controlled the Twins, thus making a sizeable profit on all cargo, imports and exports. The elder Walder Frey was a shrewd businessman, though degenerate and foul, and he made only the most advantageous of bargains. Sansa was unclear as to the specifics, but her father had inadvertently double-crossed the Freys when Robb refused to play his part.

Had she been a more selfish person, she would have done the same, but Arya would have rather died than marry anyone not of her choosing. Bran and Rickon were far too young to suggest such a thing, and their futures were too bright to tarnish with such responsibility. Sansa didn’t resent saving her younger siblings, but it would be quite some time before she reconciled with Robb or her parents.

Her fiancé’s coarse laughter brought her back to the present, and she managed to laugh along with the others. His hand on her arm tightened in warning, letting her know that he was aware of her flagging attention. She straightened, smiling prettily at him. His grasp relaxed, and he turned away.

Sansa’s smile stiffened when she realized that she had another hour of interminable waiting and small talk before the announcement was officially made. The elder Walder Frey had wanted a dramatic reveal, for the greatest effect, and her parents had reluctantly agreed. The guests were under the impression that they were celebrating some unnamed merger between businesses. Speculation ran rampant throughout the room.

Distantly, Sansa heard the musicians striking up a waltz. _Of course, there would be dancing_ , she thought bitterly, _because this night can’t get much worse._ She had the awful suspicion that her fiancé would turn to her any moment and ask her for a dance. Sansa would be unable to refuse, so she would be forced to spend several minutes being groped whilst trying to avoid his stomping feet.

A light touch on her other elbow had her head swinging ‘round to meet the burning gaze of Tywin Lannister. _Oh gods, he came!_

“I believe this dance is mine.”

Sansa could feel her pig fiancé begin to protest, so she quickly accepted Tywin’s offered hand, “Of course, how silly of me to forget.”

He led her away to the dance floor in a connected room. He didn’t begin to speak until she was in his arms and they were moving to the strains of an old Valyrian waltz. “You left me last month without explanation. You will give me one now.”

“Surely you know, or are at least aware of some of the particulars.”

“Varys told me of the bad business between your father and Frey. Some of the details were a mystery, even to him, but from what he gathered, there were far reaching consequences for the Starks, namely you.”

His words warmed her; he’d cared enough to go looking for answers. That was more than she had dared hope for. “I’m probably more in the dark than you. When Robb refused, I offered to take his place.”

“Your place,” he snarled quietly, “is in _my_ bed. Not some Frey’s.”

“Don’t you know that I want to be there? You of all people should know that family comes first.”

Silence fell, and Sansa became aware of the whispers and the stares that followed them as Tywin twirled her about the room. Was it so strange to see a Lannister dancing with a Stark? Breaking the silence, Sansa decided to ask him, “Why are they staring?”

“I don’t dance,” he answered shortly.

A wry smile quirked up her lips, “All evidence to the contrary.”

Tywin’s lips twitched in response, “I have not danced since Joanna. They are aware of this.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

“So, you’re making some kind of statement?”

“In a way, but there are more obvious, if crude, methods to let them know that you are mine.”

“Am I? Yours, I mean.”

Sansa held her breath, waiting for his answer. Tywin brought their dance to a halt in the middle of the floor, causing the other couples to swerve away from them. Instead of answering her with words, he bent his head and kissed her. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, nipped at her lips, and drew back, leaving her gasping. He was the sweetest thing she’d tasted in a month, but reality intruded far too soon.

“Tywin, we— _I_ can’t! My parents…the Freys…I _promised_!”

He stopped her protestations with a warm finger on her lips, “I know you did, but this is not a case of you loving honor more. Walder Frey has seen the error of his ways. He will make reparations to your family or he will face me. The former prospect is far more appealing.”

Sansa raised a shaking hand to his face, “It was never about my honor; it was about the happiness of my family. But you, you were an unexpected happiness that I allowed myself to indulge in. I never thought that I would—”

She bit off the rest, not quite ready to give him a full confession, but his eyes gleamed with the knowledge of her unsaid words. Later, their reunion would be slow and loving, and she would whisper to him what she couldn’t say now. At present, she faced the unpleasant prospect of explaining the situation to her very confused parents. Their slack-jawed expressions stood out to her from the rest of the gaping audience.

“Mum, dad, I know this looks…well, I know it looks bad, but if you’ll just—wait, Tywin! Where are you taking me?”

“You may explain to them later. My needs are more pressing.”

Infuriating man, no wonder she love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note Part II: 
> 
> -The throwaways about ‘loving honor more’ I snagged from Richard Lovelace’s To Lucasta, Going to the Warres. 
> 
> -After yesterday, I was hesitant to finish this fic. The original cutoff was Sansa leaving and never seeing Tywin again. I couldn’t bring myself to write them a happy ending after finding out about Robin Williams. But this morning I watched Jumanji and I smiled and laughed and somehow I knew it was all going to be okay. Even if we don’t always get happy endings in real life, we can turn to fiction, and find a never-ending plethora of undiscovered countries. If you, a loved one, friend, or stranger are going through a rough patch, please seek help. Find your happy thought and cling to it.


End file.
